


Moon Mist Red

by FailureArtist



Series: Friendship & Stuff Cinematic Universe [14]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cousin Incest, Cults, Gen, Hate Crimes, Hotdish, Human Sacrifice, Humanstuck, Religious Abuse, dead dove don't eat, implied racism, non-major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22192603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FailureArtist/pseuds/FailureArtist
Summary: Late March 2017: Gamzee participates in his first service of the Alternative Insane Clown Posse Fan Club as a full-member.
Relationships: Gamzee Makara/Kurloz Makara
Series: Friendship & Stuff Cinematic Universe [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1532495
Kudos: 5





	Moon Mist Red

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Cousin incest again. Group violence leading to death against someone implied to be a person of color by a majority white group. Reincarnation memories of implied child-on-child sexual assault. Family estrangement backstory.

Bishop Hank Korhoven had a special room made for services like these. Though the lakehouse was mostly open-plan and airy, this inner chamber was different. There were no windows and the only light came from harsh fluorescents. Instead of gorgeous hardwood, the floor was covered in white porcelain tile. In the center of the room was a drain and on one wall there was a hose. In the corner was a large sink like the ones in hospital surgery suites. Gamzee had never been in this room and hadn’t even seen the hidden door before a few minutes ago. Yet that was before he became a full member of the Church of the Mirthful Messiahs.

He was here with twenty-three other members wearing plastic jackets, including his cousin and boyfriend Kurloz and Kurloz’s girlfriend Meulin. There was Sister Martha and Brother Zack and Brother Jason and the twin Brothers Pete and Pauly and that annoying Sister Brittany and Bishop Hank and everyone else Gamzee had gotten to know in his time with the Church. He knew which ones liked liquorice and which ones hated it. He knew some wanted to open businesses and some had followed their dreams and some were just grinding out each day. Gamzee loved all of his Family, even the ones he hated. 

However, he did not know the motherfucker tied up and bagged on the floor. He couldn’t even see anything of the motherfucker except their brown beat-up bare feet. 

“It needs a pedicure,” Sister Brittany remarked, “We should cut off its feet!”

She laughed and the Family laughed and the sound reverberated through the room. The body wiggled. 

Brother Pauly said, “It was too busy spending our money on cheap booze to get a pedicure.”

The Family grumbled about that. They said cruel words under their breath. Gamzee wasn’t grumbling like them but he said no words in this motherfucker’s defense. 

Bishop Hank, standing at the head or whatever of the body, spoke up, “It does not matter what this motherfucker did in this life. It did nothing of importance. So it was easily obtained by Brothers Pete and Pauly.”

He pointed at the twins with his club. The twins nodded and each made a W sign. Bishop Hank then pointed at the wiggling bag. On it was a crude picture of a troll with maroon eyes and purple blood in its teeth. 

Bishop Hank continued, “But what this motherfucker did in its previous life was wretched and unforgivable. This buffalo kept us from achieving the Paradise Planet on time. It and every one of its like. Like a drop of rain on a rock, it carved away at us.”

Gamzee wondered what exactly this motherfucker did in a previous life. However, it would have been rude to interrupt. 

Bishop Hank’s club came close to where the head should be in the bag.

“However, if we shed its blood now, we will be that much closer to the Paradise Planet.”

Everyone went “WHOOP WHOOP.”

“Let us slam.”

Everyone held out their latex gloved hands and looked at the ceiling. They spoke in an approximation of that alien language. Gamzee had been taught this prayer beforehand though he struggled to do it. He didn’t know the language fully but he knew this was what it translated as:

Praised be the Lord of Time! Praised be the Muse of Space! Praised be The Victor! Bring us to the Paradise Planet! Each Night we get further!

They then all made the double W sign and went “WHOOP WHOOP!”

Bishop Hank pointed his club at Gamzee. 

“I think you should have the first hit….”

Gamzee felt that name go deep inside him. He walked over to where Bishop Hank was and took the juggling club he offered. It was heavier than it looked, but it wasn’t too much for Gamzee. The congregation looked at him expectantly.

Gamzee raised the club over his head. The body was almost still except for its breathing. It was alive but it was Gamzee’s job to end it. He looked at the crude troll drawing with its red eyes and in his head he heard this line. 

  


Gamzee was struck with fear but not because murder was wrong. That was not on his mind. Instead, he felt stranger danger from this body. His heart was going at a thousand beats a second. With one stroke…

The skull breaking echoed through the tiled room.

“Oh my God!” someone might have said far away. 

Gamzee didn’t stop. He brought his club down on the body over and over until the blood leaked through the bag. He would have beaten it more but hands pulled him away. He dropped his club but he gave the body one more kick with his long legs while he could. Still, he screamed. 

“YOU MOTHERFUCKER! YOU FFFFFF MOTHERFUCKER!”

Kurloz came over and patted Gamzee on the head. Meulin made pspspsp sounds like Gamzee was an angry cat. This worked on Gamzee. His blood slowed as the blood in the bag quickened. He was back in this room and not on a beach. The couple led him away while the rest of the congregation awkwardly beat a dead human. 

“Are you okay?” Meulin asked.

“Mhhmmm,” said Gamzee. He just felt numb now.

“I guess that’s yes?? Let’s get you some water.”

She led him to the sink and turned it on. He drank from the stream like a dog. 

“You did a purrfect job! Every good! Better than me!”

Gamzee asked Meulin, “You do this before?”

“Of course! We all have!” 

Gamzee sighed and put his head under the faucet. He knew that was true but he couldn’t wrap his head around it. 

Kurloz tapped him on the shoulder and Gamzee looked at him.

_ You did a good job, son. _

“Thanks.”

Meulin signed.  _ It gets better. _

_ “ _ Better, huh.”

“Sister Meulin,” Bishop Hank said, “And Brothers Kurloz and Gamzee. Come over here.”

They went to the center to rejoin the congregation around the bloody sack. It looked even less like a human now. The feet were now black and blue. 

“The sacrifice has been given to the God of Double Death,” Bishop Hank declared, “Let us slam.”

Another prayer. Gamzee could only mumble along.

Paradise Planet yesterday. Paradise Planet today. Paradise Planet tomorrow.

Everyone went “WHOOP WHOOP!”

“The sacrifice has ended. Honk in peace.”

Everyone took off their plastic jackets and dumped them on the ground.

Sister Martha said, “Stay in the living room while I get lunch set up.”

Gamzee asked Meulin,  _ Are we eating the body? _

Meulin replied,  _ Silly person, we are eating normal food. _

He nodded. At least something was normal here.

Everyone filed out of that strange fluorescent chamber and into the natural light of a spring day. They gathered together in the large flowing living room. At every turn, there were brothers and sisters coming up to Gamzee and praising him with light in their eyes. 

“Amazing! No hesitation!”

“You are a true purpleblood.”

“I knew you could do it, boy.”

“You’re a chip off the old block!”

“Man, if I had a stroke like that on the fairway, my handicap would be a LOT smaller.”

“Damn, you fucking KILLED it!”

Gamzee wondered if this was what it was like to graduate. Yet these people seemed more thrilled than if he had graduated with honors from Harvard. No one had ever praised Gamzee this much.

Gamzee sat one of the many couches with Kurloz and Meulin. Everyone stood and sat where they could. Bishop Hank remained standing.

“Does anyone have any visions they like to share?” he asked.

Gamzee raised his hand and everyone’s eyes shot towards him.

“Brother Gamzee?”

Gamzee put down his hand. “Yeah, um, while I be…doing it…I heard a voice all calling in the alien language.”

“What did it say?”

“Ummm…it said……I mean……um……I don’t know.”

People around him chattered about what it could possibly mean but nobody gave Gamzee any answers. Whatever the line was, it was quickly vanishing from his brain and saying it out loud wasn’t helping. 

Meulin tapped Gamzee on the shoulder and signed,  _ What did it say?   
_

Gamzee shrugged.

_ Don’t worry. I’m always hearing a voice saying leggings. _

“Wait, what?” Gamzee asked out loud. “You mean leggings?”

Meulin responded out loud, “Yes, leggings!! That’s what it translates as!!”

Sister Brittany snickered. 

“Anyone else have any visions?” Bishop Hank asked.

Brother Paul raised his hand.

“Yes?”

“I dreamed that the ice caps melted and that meant…” He spat out the next few words. “…New York City and Los Angeles…were underwater.”

Everyone seems cheered by that news. 

Brother Jason yelled, “The way is prepared for the Sexy Fish Lady!”

People talked about their visions for a little bit until Sister Martha came out and said it was time to eat. Everyone filled into the dinning room where there was a table laden with a typical Midwestern hotdish spread. The table, as large as it was, did not have enough space for twenty-three people, but Gamzee was given one of the few chairs. Before he could even ask, he got a plate laden with ham sandwiches, two types of potato salad, three bean salad, macaroni & cheese, brownies, and probably other stuff buried in there and a cup of fruit punch. Kurloz and Meulin managed to sit next to him. Many others crowded around him. 

“Let us slam,” Bishop Hank announced. Everyone held hands.

Rub a dub dub, thanks for the grub.

Then everyone let go and started eating. Gamzee might have normally wolfed down this meal but now he picked at it. People made conversation around him.

It was all such a normal enjoyable Sunday supper. Yet they had just killed someone. Or rather, Gamzee had. It did not seem like murder, though. Nobody was ashamed. 

Eventually, the meal started winding down. Kurloz got up and pulled Gamzee and Meulin aside.

_ I will drive Little Clown home,  _ he signed.

Meulin signed,  _ Okay. I will stay here longer. _

Kurloz nodded. 

First, though, Gamzee and Kurloz went to talk with Bishop Hank.

“Good job, son,” Bishop Hank said to Gamzee.

“Thanks.” Gamzee’s heart warmed, though when he looked at Kurloz’s slightly peeved face it cooled a little.

“We will need to prepare for initiation ceremony. Keep watching your email.”

“Got it.”

“Remember: you are in this for good.” 

“G-got it.” 

So Gamzee and Kurloz left for Kurloz’s truck. Gamzee wanted to hold Kurloz’s hand but he couldn’t. Not now. When Kurloz got in the driver’s seat, he signed  _ You did a good job  _ before starting the engine. After that, his hands were too occupied to talk. Still, Gamzee did talk, or rather babble.

“Holy shit, that was a motherfucker of a bitch. I fucking - the ninja’s fuckin’ head - no, I be meanin’ the sacrifice’s head - it just - broke like a melon. A fuckin’ melon. Blood and brains every fucking which way. Jesus motherfuckin’ Christ.”

Kurloz pulled the car over on the country road. He undid his seatbelt, leaned over, and kissed Gamzee hard while pawing Gamzee’s crotch.

“Holy shit,” Gamzee whispered as Kurloz pulled away.

They then fooled around the best they could in the front seats of a truck. Gamzee came but Kurloz reserved his power. This was not the weirdest time they had done it but it was still weird. 

Then Kurloz tucked himself back in and started driving again. Gamzee looked out the window. His anxiousness was completely gone now and he felt boneless. The sacrifice had been stressful, but he knew he’d get over it if he did it enough. Everyone said he did a good job and he believed them. He did hope eventually he’d figure out the mystery of what that voice said. For now, he’d just sleep.

* * *

_ Jeremiah Carter hoped to turn his life around some day. He did not expect his children to fully forgive him for not being the father he could have been, but maybe he could see his grandchildren. Unfortunately, he couldn’t keep his crazy away without pills and whenever he was out all he had was booze. In prison he could get pills but that wasn’t worth it.  _

_ Then two white men in a pickup truck, twins by the look of it, asked if he wanted to make some money. He said yes and came with them. They gave him something to drink that knocked him out and he woke up with a bag over him in what seemed to be a tiled room. That was the end for him. _

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> Vision: If you don’t leavve this beach right NOWW wwe wwill fuck you you little dirtsucker
> 
> Gamzee's recounting: basically trying to say "If you don't leavve" but mispelling leavve.
> 
> Note: The speaker in the vision is not Eridan.


End file.
